


Hey, that was pretty good for Rambo!

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a request for a BAMF F! Tabris, I wrote a few very silly sketches of a Tabris rescuing various men in her party. In this collection, I have also added "My Cup of Tea" and "Good Luck Ferelden!" as also stories in which the same Tabris tells people off and is generally a lovable jerk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hey, That Was Pretty Good For Rambo!

Sten waited impatiently with the others just outside the door. The two Grey Wardens had been back for less than ten minutes before immediately being swept into yet another meeting with Eamon, now accompanied by the Queen of Ferelden. This damn diplomacy and bureaucracy had only ended up with the pair of them kidnapped and thrown into prison. It had taken every fibre of his being not to tear through the Fort himself and much, much meditation. He was not surprised Warden Tabris had managed to get herself safely out, but he felt...relieved. And irrationally angry with her. She had no need to put herself in such danger. He felt himself bristling as the door opened again, ready once again to tell her what he thought of her latest decision-making.

Tabris exited the room behind Alistair, the man running off to meet their other companions and tell the story of their apparently harrowing escape. Sten stood, glaring as she walked past.

"You should not be so reckless, kadan," he muttered when she was within earshot.

"I did not want to put the Queen in danger," she replied, not looking at him. 

"I do not care about the safety of the Queen."

Tabris smirked and whispered, "I can take care of myself. I think you would have known that by now."

He thought of their encounter at Haven, the fire in her eyes as her lips were a mere breath from his, the anger between them changing into a very different sort of heat. He cleared his throat and looked away.

"What is the next move?" He asked.

"There is trouble in the Alienage," she replied, "I'm going alone on foot to investigate. Anyone else will just attract attention."

"This could be a trap," he said, glancing to meet her gaze, "It is dangerous for you to go alone."

"You don't have to worry about me, Sten," she said, her voice growing softer.

"I do, kadan," he murmured, his hand brushing lightly against hers. 

He pulled back, letting her walk from him. He could have sworn he saw her blushing.

oOoOo

Sten was growing used to humans staring at him when he walked the streets of Denerim, but the glances of this particular group of three concerned him. It was not mere curiosity, but active interest. He went a different way than he was planning, going through the alleyway beside the Wonders of Thedas. He could hear them now. They were following him. 

He gasped for breath as the spell hit him, knocking him to his knees. He felt the ropes binding him before he could fight back. He understood a little as they pulled him, the magic dragging him through the dirt. They were from Tevinter. He laughed painfully to himself. After years of surviving the war in Seheron, he had been captured in a ditch in Ferelden. 

His laughter inevitably disturbed his captors and he went unconscious. 

oOoOo

Sten woke at the bottom of a cage. He groaned, his chest aching. To his surprise, he felt himself being lifted up into a sitting position and a canteen of water placed beneath his lips. He drank instinctively, opening his eyes.

He paused, wiping his lips as he looked over the older elven man standing before him. There was something about him, something in his green eyes...

"You're awake, friend," the elf said kindly, "We were worried you would not wake again."

"Where am I?"

"That's a good question," he replied, "Most of us have been transported from the Alienage. I'm told we're destined to be sold in Tevinter as slaves."

"You sound oddly calm considering your fate."

The elf smiled weakly, "I'm terrified. I'm just trying to keep it together. There are many much younger than me in the cages. I have to be strong for them. I am curious what they want with you. You seem rather large for a slave."

Sten said, "Our peoples have been at war for centuries. I imagine...I imagine I will be brought as a prisoner, tortured, and eventually killed."

The elf replied, "And you think I sounded oddly calm."

Sten said gently, "I am scared as well."

"My name is Cyrion, Cyrion Tabris," the elf said, lifting his small hand to shake.

Sten frowned, "Tabris?"

"You've heard of my daughter then," Cyrion chuckled, "I'm quite proud of her, saving the country and angering every noble in sight. I half expected her to somehow know where I was and rescue me. But...I have always been a sap for a happy ending."

Sten said nothing.

Cyrion shook his head, "No matter. We should rest while they are still gone. Drink a little more and sleep. You will need your strength, Qunari."

Cyrion sat back down in the cage, groaning as he reached the floor.

Sten hesitated before finally saying, "If there was someone to rescue us...I think there is no one stronger nor more capable than your daughter."

Cyrion smiled as he closed his eyes, "I like to think so."

oOoOo

Sten glanced up when he saw the two guards leave the room. The mage stood still with several guards watching them. He heard a quiet grunt and he looked towards the docking bay, swearing he could see a shoe disappear from sight. 

A few minutes passed and another pair of guards went forward, the mage now wary and pulling out his staff. Sten hid a smirk. 

He glanced over at Cyrion, who looked hopeful. 

He heard the other captives gasp as a smoke filled the room. It was nearly impossible to see, but he could heard the quiet movements of a rogue, the sounds of men falling, the sound of metal against bone. 

The smoke cleared as he saw Tabris with her dagger against the mage's throat. He tried to plead for his life, but she slit it, not looking back as he fell to the ground. She walked over to the cages, picking the locks with ease. Others fled before she finally got to them. She embraced her father as soon as he made it out the door, kissing his forehead. He tried not to listen in, standing awkwardly as the rest left. 

"Sten," Tabris called out, "I'm surprised to see you here. Were you here to keep my father company?"

Sten replied in embarrassment, "I was...detained. There were many men, I was simply overpowered."

"Uh huh," she rolled her eyes, "Come on, let's go see Dad get home safe and then I'll walk you home. I wouldn't want you to get "detained" again."

Tabris laughed to herself as she walked back out into the Alienage, the two men following behind her.

Sten muttered quietly to Cyrion, "Your daughter is a...very strong headed woman."

Cyrion chuckled, "You should have met her mother."


	2. Try This, Batman!

Zevran grumbled to himself as he lay tied to the pole. He knew he had not been exactly wise running around the streets of Denerim by himself, but he could not resist the Pearl any longer. And besides, he thought to himself, who could take down an Antivan Crow?

The answer turned out to be six other Antivan Crows. 

It would be less embarrassing if they had just killed him outright, but they had decided to use him to lure the Wardens to him. While Tabris had generally rejected his advances, she still seemed to be somewhat fond of him, and probably wouldn't leave him to his captors. Probably. 

The warehouse grew cold and Zevran tried to shuffle to regain some heat. One of the Crows glared at him and Zevran smiled.

"You must be even colder, friend," he said, "At least I've had some time to get used to this horrible country. Do you get that strange scratching in the back of your throat when you wake up? It bothered me for weeks."

The Crow opened his mouth to answer, but Taliesen shushed them.

"I think I hear her," he said quietly, "Be on your guard."

Zevran nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw the dagger fly through Taliesen's throat. He tried to move as his former friend fell, the other four drawing out their weapons as they tried to find the threat. 

The elven Warden vaulted herself from the ceiling, pinning two down, her blades crushing their chests before they had a chance to run. She swept upwards, cutting down the third and parrying the blow of the fourth. A few spars back and forth and Tabris threw herself forward, knocking the Crow to her feet. She slit her throat and looked up at the last survivor. The man tried to flee and Tabris threw a dagger out of her boot, pinning his shoulder to the wall.

She went to his side, holding a blade against his throat.

"Are there any more of you?" She growled.

The man whimpered, "No."

She stabbed him in the back, helping the man down as he fell. Covered in blood, she wiped her face before walking over to Zevran, kneeling before him. He went bright red, realizing how hard he had gotten watching her in action.

He grinned as she worked on his binds, "Perhaps you can give me another sort of release after you release me? There must be a way to reward my fair protectress."

"You can not get yourself kidnapped," she replied, rolling her eyes, "Five minutes. All I want is five minutes before I have to go rescue someone. A girl's gotta eat."


	3. Warden Hard With A Vengeance

Alistair curled up in his bedroll just outside Lothering. The others were still in the village, negotiating for the release of the Qunari. He had just been too exhausted and quite frankly, displeased with everyone being brought along on their merry adventure. Morrigan had been at him since they left Ostagar, the dog had generally ignored him even though Alistair had been the one to beg to take him along, his fellow Warden Tabris was this tiny little thing who seemed so smug and cocky and completely oblivious to how dire their situation was. And now they had a seriously insane Chantry sister and soon to have a murderous heathen. 

This is not what he signed up for as a Grey Warden. Wardens were brave, heroic, and selfless. Tabris so far had whined about becoming a Warden and haggled with poor merchants to reduce their wares even further. They were supposed to be brother and sister in arms, but she had ignored his mourning, and seemed to be completely unfazed by all that had happened. He was starting to wonder if she even wanted him along, never mind liked him.

He rested his head, closing his eyes. The nightmares had gotten worse since the Blight had begun and worse still since Ostagar. But maybe he could get an hour or so rest before they were on the road again. 

He was just drifting off when he vaguely heard people in the bush. He glanced up, barely catching his breath before he saw three mages standing before him.

"All alone, Templar?" One chuckled darkly.

Alistair tried to cleanse the area of magic, but the three tackled him, binding him in rope and leather. He yelled as he tried to pull them apart, but a swift punch to the jaw left him dazed as he fell to the ground. When the assault suddenly stopped, he looked up, seeing a sudden dash and the mage falling to the ground, just as the demon appeared. The demon fell with a scream. His eyes focused. It was his fellow Warden.

Tabris smirked as she swung her blades to the left, breaking through the second mage's staff. She did not stumble as the mage tried to drain her blood, merely wincing before stabbing her in the gut. The third ran and she started to pursue, but then saw Alistair's bloody face. She sheathed her weapons and went to his side. She cut through his ropes silently, rubbing his wrists to help the circulation come back.

She reached into her satchel and found a healing balm. She tenderly applied it to his cut lip as he looked at her in awe.

"Are you okay?" She asked, a softness to her voice he hadn't heard before.

He nodded.

She shook her head, "I came to make sure you were alright, emotionally, I mean. Then you manage to find the three blood mages in Lothering. You really have no luck, kid, you know that, right?"

"I'm older than you," Alistair reminded indignantly, standing to his feet.

"Apparently those two years didn't help you any," she teased. 

He wanted to protest, but then instead, blushed. She was joking with him. 

"Go on," she said, "Get some sleep. I'll make sure no bad apostates attack you."

He was too tired to argue and curled back into his bedroll. He closed his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of her speaking quietly to the returning party. Just before he passed into the fade, the dog curled underneath his arm.


	4. From Denerim With Love

It would be only fair to say that Oghren was utterly and completely sloshed. Truthfully, there was always a mild level of alcohol in his system, but this time, he was totally, entirely drunk off his ass.

He was alone at the Spoiled Princess, the rest of the gang upstairs asleep. He had wanted just a few minutes alone before they crossed the lake. Who knew what the bloody mages would have in store for them? As the Warden warned him, nothing on this quest had been easy yet. 

Which he didn't mind. He could use a good fight to get his mind off everything that had happened only a few weeks ago. He still had dreams about her. Still could remember the early days of their marriage. He hadn't been happy with her at the end, and to be honest, he hadn't missed her as much as he should have for the two years she was gone. But he had a duty to her. Now that duty was over.

He cocked his head as the waitress passed. There were a few attractive broads there tonight. While he had been hoping to catch Felsi, he didn't mind having another woman keep him company that night. Especially now that the Warden wasn't there to lecture him about objectifying women or any of that nonsense. Honestly, the woman was as much fun as dried nug droppings.

He drunkenly put his hand out to grab the waitress' ass, instead connecting it with the backside of a hulking human man. He practically growled as he turned, grabbing Oghren by the collar.

"What game you playing, dwarf?" 

Oghren rolled his eyes, "Clearly I was trying to feel up the chick ahead of you. It's not my fault your big ass got in the way."

A quiet throat clearing caught Oghren's attention and they both looked to the petite elf who had saddled up to them at the bar.

She placed her hand on the human's arm and said kindly, "My friend meant no harm. Here, let me buy you a drink and we'll talk this over."

"Your friend needs better manners," the man threatened, closing his hand on Oghren's shirt, "I was trying to teach him a lesson."

"Well I agree he can be a heinous asshole," Tabris smirked, "I try to use a more friendly method of changing behaviour. I find that usually punching people out in bars is not really that effective."

"Back off, you knife ear whore," he spat.

Tabris sighed before vaulting herself off the stool, knocking the man to the ground. She punched him across the jaw twice before pulling a dagger out of her boot and holding it to his throat.

"Say that again," she ordered darkly.

The man looked at Oghren with fear before looking back to her.

"I didn't mean it," he begged, "I just thought-"

Tabris growled, "You thought I was some helpless little girl? Well, let me tell you something. There's nothing helpless about me."

Tabris removed the blade just before headbutting him. He slumped to the ground as Tabris rubbed her forehead, groaning slightly.

She looked over at Oghren who stared at her in disbelief.

"Sometimes it is effective," she sighed "But I recommend you don't try it at home."


	5. My Cup Of Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this case, an Anon asked for a very sweary Tabris. I imagine she toned things down a little bit after worrying how much Alistair was fainting. I also am not a huge swearer in real life, so I tried to have fun with it.

When Alistair turned to face the young elven woman before him, his first reaction was to smile. It was rare to have a fellow Warden around the same age as him, and she was actually quite pretty. She was such a small thing, it was hard not to be charmed at the sight of her.

He however was significantly less charmed when she opened her mouth.

"Hey, are you that asshole Alistair all the guards told me to find? Shit, man, why are you hiding in the back of the camp like a little kid bickering with some man in a dress? Doesn't the guy have enough problems? Shems, man, I never understand you shitheads."

Alistair cleared his throat, "Excuse me?"

"Whatever," she grumbled, "Where's the food? I was promised a hot meal and a bath before we go through this Joining bullshit. You want to point me in the right direction or what?"

"Um," Alistair blushed, "Right this way, there's a...um...pot...for...you know, stew."

The woman shook her head as she walked beside him, matching each of his steps with ease, "You know you were almost articulate earlier. Cock got your tongue? Are there no women around in the Grey Wardens? Just one big ass circle jerk for everyone? No wonder Duncan's been in a snit. I ain't touching that shitpot with a ten foot pole, never rubbing his...hopefully not ten foot pole-"

"Duncan is a good man," Alistair protested.

"And the asshole completes a full sentence," she cheered, "Good. I was worried I would have to do all the talking myself."

"Somehow I don't think that would bother you."

She chuckled, "You'd be surprised. I bore even myself after awhile. Hey...what's happening over there? There's some shem in a cage. Is he a darkspawn in disguise or something?"

Alistair looked to where she gestured, "Deserter."

"And you lock him up like that?" She frowned, "If the man wants to go, let him go. Come on, let's go settle with this."

He wanted to call after her, but realized he had actually not yet learned her name. He chased after her as she stomped over to the cage.

"You," she barked at the prisoner, "They have you in for deserting?"

The man shuddered, "You didn't see those creatures...such horrible beasts..."

"Trust me, I grew up in Denerim," she laughed, "There ain't much that scare me. They give you a trial? Give you a few slaps on the wrist or what?"

"I'm to be executed in the morning," he said quietly, "Please, miss. I've been in here all day without food or water. Can you help me...just...please..."

"What shitting barbarians do you work with, Alistair?" She rolled her eyes, "What is this? The Orleasian occupation? Hang in there, friend, I'll be back."

Alistair was helpless as she shoved the guard back.

"What sort of sick son of a bitch doesn't let a man have a sip of water or a bite of food? I can smell pork even on you, you little pervert. You think you'll just go watch the man die while you stuff yourself, you sick bastard. Does that get you all wet and nasty?"

The guard looked in shock and glanced to Alistair for help before looking back at her, "I'm sorry, miss, they didn't give me enough provisions to-"

She grabbed the blade out of her boot, holding it at the man's throat.

"Well, look at that," she mocked, "I thought the quartermaster had given me a carrot, but I guess not. Maybe we can both agree that sometimes soldiers can make executive decisions about supplies in the field. Or I can feed this to you like a little bunny rabbit, if you'd like."

The guard threw his satchel of food at her and backed off, holding his hand protectively against his throat. 

She grabbed it, pushing it through the bars. The man ate hungrily and Alistair could hear her whisper something to him. He glanced, seeing a small flash of metal pass between him and the man started to cry. Almost compassionately, she patted his hand and walked off to Alistair.

"What did you give him?" He asked as they walked away.

"Lockpick," she replied, as if it were obvious. 

"He's a criminal," Alistair protested.

"He's 90 pounds soaking wet," she stated, "He's a draft, pure and simple. No man should have to fight if they don't want to and certainly no one should ever be in a cage like some...some animal."

Alistair glanced back at the man, scarfing down his food and holding the pick to him like a security blanket. He felt his anger soften and he looked back at her.

"Luthien Tabris," she introduced, "By the way. Louie to my friends. Tabris to my colleagues." 

"You always go by your last name?" He asked.

"It's what you do in the Alienage," she explained, "You use a name that has meaning. I like to remind people that my mother was the most badass bitch who ever lived: Adaia Tabris. Back home, it reminds people not to screw with me."

"And here?"

"You never know. My mother made quite an impression during the war. You never know who she pissed off."

Tabris skipped forward cheerfully as if unaware of introducing him to several new insults and involving him in criminal activities within the first ten minutes of them meeting. 

"Oh look," she pointed out, "There's another one of the circle jerkers. The blue's handy, it's nice to be able to see them easier. Hello, brother! I hope you're better with a clit than you are with that broadsword!"

Alistair pulled her to the side and hissed, "You can't say that sort of thing to a superior officer."

"Should I have been formal and said clitoris instead?"

Alistair blushed a deeper shade of red than he knew possibly as she looked at him with glee. 

"Oh Maker," she giggled, "You're a virgin. Oh Maker, that's wonderful. You're like what, 23 at least? You're like a little unicorn. Let me guess, you were raised in the Chantry or had deliciously repressed parents. Or both? Were you waiting until marriage and now that's horribly backfired on you?"

He wanted to die. He wanted the ground to swallow him up right there and then. 

She raised an eyebrow, "Have I hurt your feelings? I'm just screwing around with you, you know that right? Come on, I'm hungry. Where's this "um...pot...stew...thing" I've heard so much about."

Alistair tried to reclaim his composure, "Just over here. Can I get you something to drink?"

He could tell she wanted to make another joke, possibly again about his sex life, but to his surprise, she just smirked and nodded, "An ale would be divine right now."

She sat at one of the make shift tables, taking off her gloves in order to eat better with her hands. He saw her bow her head as if for a quick prayer before she ladled herself a bowl and broke off a piece of bread.

"Hey, recruit!" 

Tabris turned and Alistair froze, recognizing Ser Pamell from her earlier taunts. He stood in fear, holding both pints as Tabris gestured to the seat beside her.

"You should treat your betters with respect, knife-ear," he growled, "Or face the consequences."

"What, that I'll be in conscripted into the Grey Wardens? Oh, wait, that already happened," she shrugged dramatically, "I guess I'll just have to cry into my beer and think about all my poor life choices. Oh boo hoo."

Alistair tried to hide a reluctant grin before Ser Pamell reached her side, attempting to pull her from her seat. Alistair dropped both pints in horror as she whipped around, head butting him. In his daze, she jumped up, knocking him to the ground before punching in the face repeatedly. 

"I tried to make a joke of it, but noo," she growled, "You shit head shems have to make it always a fight. You always have to beat up little elven girls so you can feel like a man, you little micro-cock."

Duncan arrived on the scene, dragging Tabris off the larger warrior, who looked at her in utter shock. 

"You should put your pet down," he warned Duncan, "Before she bites off more than she can chew."

"Trust me," she snarled, "If I bit off your miniscule excuse for genitals, I wouldn't even have to gulp."

Duncan hissed something to her and she threw her arms up, angrily marching off towards the tents.

Duncan apologized, "I'm sorry, Alistair, that I have saddled her with you today. She can be...spirited. And vindictive...and generally unpleasant."

Alistair grinned sheepishly and said, "I think I kind of like her." 

Duncan gave him a frustrated glance and Alistair blushed and looked away.


	6. Good Luck Ferelden!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this way before I wrote any of the BAMF! Tabris stories, but it seemed to fit well into this collection. Don't worry, Alistair and Tabris make up and are BFFs again later.

Tabris woke to the soft groan of the man beside her, stretching as before sitting in a meditative pose. She smiled to herself, trying to fall back asleep to the sound of a low hum as Sten worked through his chants. 

But as she laid there, listening to him breathe, the fact it was one of their last mornings together made it hard for her to close her eyes. They had not changed their routine, relying on it to make it through this week. Sten would leave for Gwaren after the coronation today. She intended to go with him until he left Ferelden, but the idea of watching him leave, standing alone on the pier as she saw him for possibly the last time...

If they said goodbye today, at least her father would be there. She could go home. There was such a comfort to that idea. To sleep in her old bed, to sleep until she could stand again. 

She heard him stir and he returned to the bed, curling his arms around her.

"Kadan," he murmured as he kissed her neck, "I am still here."

She realized then she had been crying and she let him curl her body against his. She looked up into his violet eyes and he cupped her face in his hands.

"I cannot stay," he said quietly, "Your kind will not allow mine for much longer. Even if I am with the Hero of Ferelden, I will not be safe. But you can come with me, kadan. Seheron...the elves live in peace there. There is war at times, but there is also joy and celebration."

"I can't," she whispered, "Maker, I want to...but I can't."

She kissed him desperately and he gently pushed her away. 

"Perhaps it is better if you stay in Denerim," he said quietly, turning from her, "I do not know if I have the strength for this much longer."

He rose from the bed, and left the room.

oOoOoOoOo

As soon as Alistair finished his proclamation to the Landsmeet, Tabris pulled him over to the side and hissed, "What are you doing?"

"I thought you'd want leadership for the elves."

"Not that," she waved him off, "Why are you sending me to Amaranthine? The Blight has been over for less than a week. I thought I had enough time to-"

They both glanced down the Landsmeet Chamber, seeing the Qunari standing awkwardly to the side as nobles stared at him. 

"I thought you'd prefer it, honestly," he commented, "No more waiting and just getting straight to business. That's the Grey Warden I know. Duty first, always. I mean...if we could all just go on vacation whenever we wanted-"

She felt as if he had slapped her across the face and she stood, stunned.

"You have no idea, do you?" She accused, "You have no idea what I'm giving up for this country, for you."

"We all have to make sacrifices," he said quietly, glancing over at Anora.

"Oh," she said, fuming, "So you marrying the beautiful princess and becoming king of the land is such a sacrifice? Leaving the Wardens, a death sentence, is a sacrifice? Tell me, did your home get destroyed during the Blight? Will you have to abandon your father to live in a hellhole while you go fight monsters, alone, in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of winter? Do you have to watch the love of your life leave you for the last time because it's not safe for him in your country? Do you really think this is the same thing?"

He responded, "I'm sorry, but this is just the way it has to be."

She paused, a smirk crossing her face, "No, it isn't."

Alistair raised an eyebrow as she turned from him, marching down the Landsmeet Chamber to her Qunari lover. She leaped into his arms, letting him cradle her as she kissed him fiercely.

From over his shoulder, she shouted out to the Landsmeet, waving her fingers profanely in the air, "I quit! See you, suckers! Seheron, here I come!"

Sten carried her out of the Landsmeet chamber and into the streets of Ferelden, the nobles breaking into hushed whispers.

He grumbled into her ear, "There was no need for theatrics."

"Says the man who is apparently carrying me the entire way home."

A smile flickered across his face before kissing her again, the crowds cheering at the sight of their hero. She was too distracted to flip them off before Sten plopped her back on her feet.  
She shouted out to the crowds, "Good luck rebuilding this slum, idiots! Enjoy the terrible winters and the wet dog smell! I'm out! Bye Denerim, you piece of shit!"

"Are you finished?" Sten grumbled.

"Almost," she replied quietly, and then yelled into the crowd, "I'm going to go off with my heathen lover and we're going to have beautiful babies outside of marriage in the jungle! Through lots and lots of really dirty sex! That's right. Not saving the world anymore, going off to have non-Chantry approved sex! But good luck with the darkspawn!"

She could have sworn she saw Sten blush before he picked her up again.

"Perhaps you could have left that part out," he grumbled before he walked towards the gates of the city.

"Never," she smirked.


End file.
